Los Porchs

When a well-meaning parent at the center tells you, on your 33rd birthday, that it's time to have another kid because yours is now two. Yep. Gonna need that glass of wine. Xo

You guys are amazing.  I love how many of you reached out after my last post to check in and learn more about our plans and just to share how the post impacted you.  You're the best.  For real. xo  I also didn't expect that post to pull so many readers into our loop, but if you're here because you read one of those last few posts, welcome to the shit show. I realized that there's something holding me back from being ready for the FET (frozen embryo transfer) and it's something bigger than I expected:  fear.  It's hard to be brave and prepare yourself for the unknown.  Infertility comes with baggage and it's not just the physical (ask anyone who has endured the injections)... the emotional baggage is legit and it far exceeds carry-on regulations. See what I did there?  GAWD I'm so punny -- I totally get it from my mother, so please don't judge me. It's the kind of baggage that leaves you shell-shocked and drained.  Our great fortune was findin

Yo.  I love, love, love that you know somebody who knows somebody who got pregnant naturally after doing IVF.  Yep.  It can sure happen.  But it's also not something us infertile folk want to hear about, especially delivered with that ''pull yourself up and just keep swimming" tone.  Did I stutter when I said less than 1%?  I thought it was pretty clear. I know that it can happen.  Our bodies are amazing AMAZING vessels and I appreciate mine so very much for all that it has done for me -- I get it.  It overcame incredible obstacles and grew the most perfect baby. It's just hard to hear you present those stories as a source of support/encouragement.  You're literally telling me to bank on that <1% chance.  How about we let the science do it's thang?  I've got 4 embabies.  And I'll be honest, a natural pregnancy would be a very welcome surprise and we would be over the moon, but I guarantee that then you'd have to listen to me reflect about

I thought it would get easier.  When we started our journey, I just wanted to get past that label of infertility and have our baby and life would be perfect.  It's not perfect.  It's amazingly and deliriously imperfect and I love everything about my cheeky monkey.  Somehow though, after jumping through all of those hoops and hitting rock bottom and climbing back up, that label has stuck.  The monthly moment of despair as we realize not only are we not pregnant, we were foolish to think we could have been. Baby showers also don't get easier.  If anything, I think it's gotten harder.  I now know the excitement and anticipation of waiting for your tiny human to arrive.  I have gotten drunk on the smell of fresh diapers and Dreft laundry detergent.  I know the joy of wearing that tiny person around.  I know what I'm missing out on.  But I know how ecstatic this new mom is as well and I remind myself that we don't know everyone's full story and maybe the family

A two year old in a recently transformed toddler bed has made me jumpy... I never know when this small person will come sauntering  (or sprinting) down the hallway in the soft glow of the nightlight. And God help me if I don't hear or see her coming and open my eyes to her face immediately in front of mine. The heart is still pumping... thanks, Bug. But seriously, did you watch the first episode of the new season of American Horror Story tonight? We caught the encore and I'm intrigued to see the story unfold. I'm also still finishing Freak Show on Netflix so I'm getting a nice AHS fix this fall! Xo

When we moved out to the burbs, I knew it would be different.  I knew it was the kiss of death to my Grubhub account.  I think this was a progression that obviously began the moment we agreed it was time to leave Chicago & we mourned the loss of the walkability we loved about our neighborhood. I'm sitting in my kitchen, listening to my husband mow the lawn, with a two-year-old on my lap as she doodles in her notebook.  The only thing really missing from this scene is a minivan in the driveway (and let's face it, we're just another baby away from that reality) -- and maybe more coffee. There's something amok with this kid today and I can't quite put my finger on it.  She's either sick (I've noticed her put her finger in her ear a time or two) or she's going through some separation stuff.  I dunno but I don't like it.  She refuses to be put down and needs to be thisclose to me at all times.  ALL TIMES.  I have been wearing her in the Tula for m